Covert
by ErinHParker
Summary: When you are degraded into the person people want you to be it is hard to express yourself. For Louis, that was the exact predicament he had to go through. With a private institution banning Homosexual interaction and coming from a rich high society Christian family, Louis was placed in a corrupted bubble of societies chosen depiction of him.
1. Chapter 1

A Tree is a woody perennial plant, typically having a single stem or trunk growing to a considerable height and bearing lateral branches at some distance from the ground. They are the life source and provider of this planet, giving humans oxygen and paper to use in our everyday lives. They also just sit there with rigid bodies that have long lanky hands poking out everywhere with chocolaty colour flaky skin shedding off its body that turns into an ugly bole colour.

Trees aren't something that people would really consider since we take away from the planet's life source by cutting them down. But there was one tree that I like to admire and it wasn't because of its natural beauty it beared or the ripe apple green leaves growing over its head. However, it's a tree that sat proudly in the middle of my huge backyard garden, isolating itself from its surrounding environment, it was the independent tree.

It grows healthy on its own, has enough space to breathe, can easily stretch its roots underneath its legs without colliding into the root of another and it shines magnificently on its own like nothing I've ever seen when the sun directly hits its back, spreading its wings like a morning butterfly captivating the eyes of a ponderous boy. I wonder when other people may view these types of things differently in a type of life, I wonder if people actually consider the thoughts of this lifeless colony in other parts of the world. This place surely doesn't, and they never will.

The sun rose in a pool of crimson and gold, spilling light all over the land and the white clouds with the morning swallows distracting me with their beautiful singing and the uprising heat beginning to pinch against my frozen skin. I let out a huge sigh and tap the end of my pen against my sketchbook. I focus my eyes more and try to study the tree in depth, this time, analysing it from top to bottom and picking out every perfect and imperfect detail on it for my drawing, mindlessly sketching the piece in my head. I want everything to be perfect for this drawing so I can present it at my upcoming art class this Thursday. I want to make sure everyone can see the things I see and relate to how this site in front of me is so breathtaking that people should come to realize how important things like these are and how important it is to be different. But it's not like anyone would be interested in what I have to share. My opinion is something that has no meaning to anyone.

"Is there really something different about me?" I breathe out.

I quickly shake my head before I trail my thoughts into negative thinking and click the pen back inside. I peer down at my watch on my wrist to check the time, realizing I only have now thirty minutes to get ready for school and fumble my book closed. I look at the tree one last time before I lift myself up onto my feet. I always get lost in my own little world I forget that I have to endure the next eight hours of judgemental school life in order to make my parents happy and to let it predict the future I will have. It's not something I would choose to do, But in order to keep my say here in my parents household I must abide by the rules.

The lenses of my glasses begin to fog and I bring my hand up to subtlety wipe them. the sound of the door backyard door opens and I avert my eyes back to the door and see two of the elder maids busily walk onto the porch with my uniform neatly folded in on one of their hands and a towel with all my toiletries on the others arms. They always went overboard with the hospitality in the household, my family look likes arrogant rich family to spoilt enough to do the own minor things.

I sigh in annoyance as walk up to them and take my clothing from Margret's arms, one of my personal maids. I look at them sceptically.

"Margret, Jackal I thank you once again for the hospitality of collecting my things but you know I can do it on my own" I jeer as I tuck my clothing under my arm.

"We know Mr Louis but..." Margret trails off and nervously glances towards Jackal. They give each other a worried expression and it makes me feel a tight churn in my stomach only making me think the worst, something must have happened.

I swallow down the clogging saliva in my throat and stammer "W-what is it?"

Margret's eyes flutter and she turns her head back to me, slowly babbling out. "Y-your father wants you in the dinner room urgently. He says he wants to speak with you before you leave for school."She orders and gives me a sympathetic look along with Jackal on the side.

I guess my father wanted to check in with my studies again, or something to do with the new school semester curriculum deciding which subjects to give me. It's always around this part of the year my father tends to be sterner with my studies and limits my free will, but I don't want to cause any more of a commotion this morning.

With that in mind, I firmly nod to them both and swiftly take my toiletries into my other hand, juggling them at the same time.

"Thank you for informing me, tell my father I'll be down soon," I say and quickly but carefully stagger past their worried faces to the door.

"Oh and Margret" I turn with an eyebrow raised. "It's just Louis."

After giving myself morning refreshment, I wrap my towel around my waistline letting it wrap around my legs down and walk over the mirror. I blankly stare over my tarnished body in pity slowly lowering my hand down to my hip. My body isn't something I'm generally comfortable with cause of my lack of physical physic barely showing and flimsy limbs that practically look like bone. I'm only five foot nine for a university student so you'd expect me to have stretched at least. But no, my body has not developed at all and I still bear a small tummy.

I shakily trace my fingers up my torso and over one of the many bruises as the corners of my eyes begin to mildly sting.

"Oh crap, I've been in here for too long!" I realize and quickly grab the edge of my towel and dart over to the rack trying not to slip. I pull the towel off my body and fold it up neatly before placing it back on the rack and fumble my plain white knoxford school top and trousers on. Once my clothes are finally on I quickly spray some cheap body spray I recently bought from the convenience store all over me before I place it back inside the drawer underneath the sink. I look at myself one last time, knowing full well I'm not going to look good even if I tried as I fix on my glasses and head out of the bathroom.

Sliding my hand down the railing I walk down the long grand timber staircase of our unneeded trillion dollar house, stepping down into a seething mass of maids and butlers. They were all bustling around the house with stacks on stacks of things in their arms some even holding platters of five-star foods in their hands with the screams of the cooks to 'be gentle' or calling out which door they need to bring the food too, the usual morning routine in this house.

Barely being able to see the ground I forcefully pace through the traffic of people. I try my best to find the door to the main dining hall were my father awaits me; Thinking of getting to talk to my father in the morning wasn't the 'ideal' morning for me. He is the CEO of a high ranked company in the United kingdom 'Empreus' known for managing some of the top leading brands in the like Sony Entertainment, BBC and you can expect for a man with that type of job has the coldest and stern personality of them all. Everything for my father revolves around work with even the way he talks to my mother, my sisters and I. It's like we are his servants with that superior tone in his voice, everything in this family has to be perfect in his eyes. That why I try my best to stay clear from him cause I know, I am not an ideal son.

I finally reach the never ending door that stretches up towards the ceiling with two big gold doorknobs on both doors. I'm not going to lie, I feel anxious to open the door. There were some things I had already planned to do as my subjects at school which I knew he would disapprove instantly of every single one and I was going to fight. Not physically fight, although, with a father like him it may come to that. But I will endure it like I have for the past seventeen years of my life.

When my body finally finds the confidence lurking inside me I place my sweaty hand over the doorknob slowly pushing the door forward hearing it creak. The first thing that hits me is how intimidating the room is. The huge canvas's of expensive artwork hanging over the sides of the walls with antique vintage vases sitting on white mini podiums in the corners of the room. The long brown table stretches through the middle of the room with my father sitting at the end of the room, papers occupying his hands. He was dressed in his normal attire of a tailor-made black suit with a one carat gold symbol of an eagle on his right boob pocket, his black hair slicked back and his burnt umber eyes intensely starring at the papers. I could faintly pick out my school's symbol on the back of one of the papers he is holding and can already tell that he has already chosen my subjects for me. I might not be so free after all.

I let the door close behind me and watch my father eyes direct towards me. I can feel the intense aura filtering the room as my father's gaze from me goes back to the paper.

He gently places the papers back on the table stands up from his seat. He adjusts the cuffs of his sleeve with a smug look over his lips.

"Louis, take a seat" He orders. I don't really feel like sitting down in a situation like this but if I don't I would get a slap to the back of my head, I wouldn't want a concussion before heading towards the school that will top that.

My fingers pinch against the edge of my pants as I push down the clog of saliva in my throat. My body feels stiff yet relaxed in the inside of me and my stomach feels tight yet surprisingly bloated. I don't know if I am just hungry or I am feeling so under pressure to be around my own father right now.

I give him a subtle nod and walk over to the right side of the table. I place myself four seats away from him making sure I keep my head intact as I pull a chair out from underneath the table and sit down. My eyes trail over to the piles of papers all messily stacked on top of each other with my father's huge signature all over them. I can already tell where this conversation was drifting to, the future of the business and me being the next face of Empreus, something I have never planned for myself.

My father professionally clears his throat. "I've called and asked for all the subjects that have been listed for this semester at your school and..."He trails of as he gathers up the papers into his hands. "I've narrowed down the five most important ones you need to take."

My eyes nervously follow the sheets of papers as he walks up towards me. He then stops behind my chair and drops the pile of papers down in front of me, hovering over me as my hands quickly snatch the paper of the table.

My eyes scan the sheet line from line unable to comprehend the disbelief in what I'm seeing. Not one single subject that could actually be interesting is listed on these papers. All of them, every single one of them were all business studies and the compulsory English and maths that were listed. Didn't he think that maybe I would want to enjoy my school life before it ends right? This is an utter joke.

I can feel the weight of my father being pulled off me as I hear him starting to walk away.

"You'll be taking most of the business studies to further improve your saving, managing and financing skills for the overrunning of Empreus in the near future. Since your skill right now is not at a high standard I am expecting, I must act sharp to this as this is our families company. All things made and done by us are for the good of the people and ourselves." He proudly ponders on as I hear the subtle pop of a cork off a whiskey bottle.

Trying to keep most of my fury inside I close my eyes for a quick moment. I know my father would never approve of me taking up football since it has nothing to do with my career. But I would like to a least give it a try and take it up as a Hobby and maybe if I can along the road, finally make some genuine friends that would, at least, say a couple of words to me then not having any interaction at school at all. But then again would I ever be accepted into the football team with the little skill I have? I probably would be set as the water boy the entire time and drool over everyone else having a blast on the field. Maybe he's saving me from the embarrassment of self-shaming myself. Maybe I should stop being so delusional.

I slowly re-open my eyes and lower the documents down to the table as I hear my father taking the glass off the silver platter and pouring the brew into his cup. I push myself up off the chair and quickly fumble the papers in my hand, fumbling with them at the same time.

I turn around to look at my father who stares at me sceptically.

"Thank you father, now um if you'll excuse me I must be going now," I say, stammering on my words.

I promptly turn around and rush out of the room before my father could keep me back any longer as I bring my hand up to rub my eyes under my glasses. I always seemed to be an easy shell to crack when things like this happen. I guess knowing the truth does really hurt, and even the truth knowing you before you know it even hurts just as more.

Once I'm out of the room I let the doors close behind me and stand there, letting the small trickle of water fall from my eyes. I'm glad that no one is here to see me in this ugly state. The atmosphere is quieter with only the two elderly who work the reception desk and my mother chatting away with them about irrelevant subjects at the far end of the downstairs parlour. Good, at least, I can be alone for now I guess.

I push my back against the door and let the weight of my body take over, sliding down to the ground. I curl my knees tightly into my chest and bury my head into my knees more, squeezing the edge of the paper. I don't know how to describe this feeling that was inside me. My chest feels heavy yet so light, and my head was paining yet I feel relieved. My eyes won't stop crying, but I can't hold them back. Maybe these are the reactions of being neglected. Maybe I should really just become the mindless drone my father expects of me to be.

"Lou?"

I freeze once I hear my mother call and I quickly rub my eyes. I adjust my glasses and lift my head up to see my mother bent down looking at me with concern. The first thing that I can notice is how many layers of dust she has over her beautiful face. She's always been so insecure about her looks ever since father got this job. She turns into dad with her usual attire of a tight black bodycon dress and a heavy gold chain dangling on her neck, her hair used to be a nice seal brown and now has turned into an eerie black colour that's always tied up in a messy bun. I wonder if she knows what she is doing and becoming one of dad disciples. I wonder when she will come to terms that she is more than she thinks.

My thinking becomes weary as my mum traces her fingers through my hair, narrowing her eyes at me anxiously.

"Are you alright dear? It's already seven thirty shouldn't you be at school now? "She asks me before her eyes spot the papers hanging in my hand.

Her wide eyes glare at me and then down at the papers and I pull the sheets into my chest scarcely.

"I'm ok, I just hurt myself on my knee, it's no biggie" I stumble on my words as I clumsily haul myself up to my feet.

My mom just looks up at me from the ground and gives me the same studying face she always gives when she thinks something is up.

"What, I said I'm fine alright!" I hug the documents against my chest harder and avert my eyes away from her.

"Well... um, ok then...but hurry up to school yeah? The car must be waiting outside..." She trails off as she stands up onto her feet.

I slowly re-connect my eyes back onto my mother again as she walks away back to the reception desk. I breathe out; thankful my mom didn't go on. But she is right, its seven thirty and I should be at school by now I only have thirty minutes before the bell for roll call goes.

I forcefully pull my shaken body off the timber floor and wipe off the specks of dirt off my shorts. I then push the bridge of my glasses up from titling down and walk over to the other side of the downstairs pallor were a long brown table scattered with my family's belongings.

I slowly scan around the bright multi-colour table of my sisters and mums trillions of bags, stationary and make-up to find my case for my glasses. My sisters go to Yorship private school which is an all-girls institution, and my older sister attends The University of oxford studying interior and accessories design. It was my mother Idea to send Lottie to the top university to study interior, she has the same innovations as my father on her, wanting her to become the next head of Emprus's top leading interior design company 'Sphiro'. It's like a Tomlinson family tradition; pass down the head crown of the two leading companies to the two eldest siblings. It's an aggravating process to go through, but I guess once you're in chains you have to wait until the seal is broken.

I eventually find my black case underneath Lottie's tall pile of documents that is overflowing with different coloured sticky notes and reach my hand out to grab it. I carefully slide it out from underneath before my ears pick up the riotous happily squeals of my two younger sisters, Phoebe and Daisy loudly stomping down the stairs chatting away.

I direct my attention over towards them standing on the stairs with Phoebe combing her manicure fingers through her long new dyed platinum blonde hair, groaning.

"No, I used the tresume prime mother offered for me this morning. I usually use Garniar but recently I have been having knots and dead ends in my hair and it's gross." Phoebe whines from the stairs crossing one arm over her chest.

I watch on as Daisy blankly blinks towards Phoebe with her uninterested blue eyes, messy brown hair bun and slouched over back.

She rubs the back of her neck lazily "Oh really, looks nice Phoebe." She murmurs tiredly. Poor Daisy she has to deal with her complete opposite sister rant about beauty and fashion twenty-four seven in their shared room and at school, Can't seem to take a break from it.

My body stiffens a little bit when Daisy's ocean blue eyes widen in excitement once she sees mine. She quickly bolts down the stairs in her short school blue skirt and white blazer top, stumbling halfway.

"Lou, Good morning!" She cutely calls to me with a small giggle in her tone.

I open my arms wide for her and she jumps into the embrace to hug me tightly.

I can't help but smile at how cute my younger sister gets every day. I hope she can stay like this forever, she is only ten years old, but she is already growing up into a cupcake.

"Good morning sweet cheeks did you sleep well?" I ask as I lightly brush the back of her head in content. She nuzzles her face deeper into my shirt and nods.

"Mhm, I did, although I think Daisy isn't having the best morning..." She trails off as she reels her head back up and turns her direction towards the footsteps walking behind her.

Phoebe strolls up towards us with her short fingers crankily brushing through her long entangle hair with a scrunched face.

"Mornin Louis" She groans.

"...Is everything alright?" I scarcely ask.

She huffs in annoyance "Don't ask I'm not interested in discussion problems about my physical physique." She stomps off the table, ignoring her sister and I concerned stares. Daisy has also become very insecure about her body ever since Lottie was chosen to represent the interior company, thinking it was only because she has the perfect hair, perfect figure and perfect grades, but it doesn't mean any of that. It's only because Lottie is the eldest sister, but she doesn't seem to realise that.

I let a small sigh and feel the weight of my sisters become lighter as she leaves the embrace to rejoin phoebe at the table. I then glance at the worn out black Casio brand watch wrapped around my wrist to check the time.

"Girls we need to get going, Marcow must be waiting outside with the car," I inform as I pick up my black Adidas bag underneath the table and swing it over my shoulder.

I look over to my sisters to see them organizing their mini textbooks and exercise books into their matching pink and purple bags. They push their little arms through the handle sockets and look towards me with a grin.

"Alright let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

Loneliness is when you feel like no one is there for you amid the fact that there are a lot of people that you can count on. But being neglected is something you can't control on your own. It's a voluntary movement made by someone's depiction of you and be disregarded completely. It's also something that can really crush the self-esteem in a person completely.

But gradually after a while of experiencing isolation, you start to think there must be something really wrong with you that makes everyone keep their distance. I know there is something different about me, but, I didn't think everyone could see through me so easily.

I always keep to myself for precaution. I'm not scared to socialize I am just scared for people to socialize with me. I am not like the most type of people that are known in the universe. I am more, of a pan. I can provide people the stuff they need but if once I am flipped over, I'm burning. I'm burning and degrading into pure bliss and become the worn out item people will just throw away once they know my real duration. I guess that's what makes me so neutral to ignore.

My sisters have already been dropped off at their school that is only a few blocks from mine school so it is just me and Marcow the chauffer now. I know I am a tad bit late but I'll make it five minutes before roll call ends.

I watch from the car with my head resting against the window as the pop rock music of the fray pounds in my ears as the old houses rush by. I don't like the street my school was situated in. It was on a hill, the road you took to enter the neighbourhood was just off the highway and you drove along the pavement for two minutes until houses actually started to come in view. They were large yes, and they all had front lawns. All of them were all well kept and no house had a twin. They were all similar looking clearly because this was the rich neighbourhood in Manchester all brightly coloured of burnt umber brown, chocolate worn out brown and sepia brown, every shade of brown. There were even a few black bricked houses too.

Once the car turns right the school building comes into view with the first thing I see is pointed burnt umber brown rooftops with arched clear windows. The limousine leisurely moves closer and passes the gold-barred gate situated in front of the building open from the middle, with burnt umber brick walls on either side enclosing the school area.

"Mr Louis" Marcow turns around on his seat with one hand on the wheel "We're here."

I roll my eyes and watching the onlooking high schoolers walking on the pavement. All the kids attending this school are spoilt little rich kids that don't understand the limitations of this world and actually preserve things for better use. This school is aids, one you touch a person their habits grow onto you and you become a heartless person. This is why I wish I went to a public school and actually enjoy high school for what it is like.

I'm not getting out" I retort, crossing my arms over my chest.

Marcow with his grey-white fringe around his balding mottled scalp wizened his face and hunched his back.

"Louis," he says with a displeasing tone in his voice "now is not the best time to throw a fit, you know how much your father expects you in school."

"I don't want to I haven't enjoyed my experience here ever since I joined." I whine as I turn around on my seat to face him properly, arms still crossed. He lets out a sigh and gives me a sympathetic look.

"Look Louis" He reaches his hand out for my shin and rubs it uncomfortably "Just bare with it, for now, alright? You only one more year and then you can leave and work on your own terms." He reassures me.

I can't help but give him a smug look at what utter nonsense he is saying to me. He doesn't know what lays ahead of me once I finish High school and the chains that will connect to me once I graduate. I will never be free, not until the boss says so.

I glance back out the window to see students starting to rush to roll call and I reach down to my seatbelt to unbuckle it. Marcow watches me with worry.

"L-Louis?" He shakily calls for me.

"I'll just see you this afternoon, have a wonderful day" Is all I can reply back to him and step outside the car, slamming the door behind me.

Everyone stops to analyse me in disgust, making me push my folder tighter against my chest. From every angle, I look the girls in their mini packs gossiping and bickering and even the biggest group of the school the football team stops to give me a stare. They were laughing, hitting others against their shoulders to pay more attention to me and joining in on the laughter as well. Being this degraded at school base on my appearance I wonder how many people in this world have steep down into cold hearted monsters like this school. Even the school teachers won't even intervene, as long as they are paid is all that matters.

The bell for roll call rings and everybody automatically starts to race towards the entrance doors, pushing past people along the way with dust particles flying up from the ground splashing against my glasses. I bring my thumb up to lightly wipe the dust away and keep my distance from the hawed of lions and dawdle, hunching my back from everyone to keep to myself. This is the usual scenery of a Monday morning and it doesn't get any better than this.

With the incredibly slow and impeccable timing at this school, I gradually made it five minutes before the end of roll call bell rang with ease but ended up taking the roll down to the office. It wasn't a hard job, but it means me being stuck in the never-ending queue lined up inside the main office to hand it in. This just adds to one of my reasons as to why the school is built on laziness and poor usage of money to supply technology.

But now it was time for class which means being surrounded by of insecure people judging you're every move instead of paying attention to the actual lesson taking place. But at the same time, it is also time for me to hand in the dreaded paper of recommendations my father has mindlessly selected for me. I want to throw it away and burn it, but then I don't want to be the one that is cast away and burnt in my own misery.

With the rhythmic clacking of heels of girls passing by and ear buzzing screeches of leather shoes running against the long cream coloured terrazzo flooring of the hallway, I stroll through the traffic of people looking for my locker going across the sides of the hall. I designated my locker at the far end of the hall so people wouldn't peep in or even bother to tamper with it. I prefer staying away from a huge crowd of people. Better yet I prefer staying away from people at all.

This school isn't like your typical rich school. First you have the popular group consisting of fake girls from tip to toe wearing some sort of jewellery or make-up from the top leading brands along with thirsty young boys including themselves into their business only to come out lucky, then you have the football team bearing the 'hottest' boys you can possibly imagine sweeping the floors with their sweaty scent reeking off their clothing, then lastly you have the all-rounder groups that keep to their little packs and only socialize with the people amongst them but gawk the popular group day-dreaming to be like them. But on top of all the self-righteousness, the school fuels it more with the school with built in machinery, Segways and 'pick yourself' lunch touch screen pads that allow them to choose how they want their lunch made and having waiters and waitresses bring it out for them. And once you realize that this is a rich school of filled with kids from leading companies you wonder if the slogans they promote for a better world, less distraction and more interaction you think we can set that example. But no, we just want the eyes of the innocent to believe that not actually agree with it.

This school also has its bizarre and questionable rules as well. The school Wi-Fi must only be used on the school computers, not on any other device, Students caught fraternizing is a temporary expulsion, physical examinations every Wednesday (judgemental day) and,... any homosexual physical interactions and relationships are a permanent expulsion. It's horrific to go through on my part, but this is how parents from a high class company like mine want their kid to grow up in. But that is never going to change me.

"When can I just be me?" I whisper lowly to myself, letting my eyelids slowly drift down with a sigh.

I open my eyes once I reach the end of the trail of lockers going down the side to find mine and stand in front of it. The small white slab of sticky tape that has my faded black name on it hangs off the side and I lightly rip it off. I enter my four digit lock key in the digital keypad provided and hear the lock pull back, allowing me to pull the door open.

I haven't cleaned my locker since last semester so all my loose papers from old classes are still scattered everywhere. The only thing useful in this locker is my green pencil case and my hanging soccer Adidas pendulum.

I grab my pencil case from the locker before closing the door shut as I hear the bell loudly ring in my ears for the class to commence. It is time for English, one of the only subjects that I do at this school apart from the other chosen selections my father has made.

I walk into my empty English classroom and instantly narrow my eyes at the sun blaring through the huge windows across the room. I look over to the side to see many rows of wooden rectangle desks going across the room and let out a sigh. I walk over to the tables, making sure I don't bump into the edges before I find myself in the back row, in the far right corner next to the window seal. This is where I usually seat for all of my classes and stare longingly at the chalkboard, waiting for the day to end.

I slide my bag off my back and place it underneath my table next to my legs. I reach down to unzip my bag and pull out my green English binder book plus my black and white nautical pencil case and carelessly dump them on the desk. I lift my head back up and let my eyes stare around the soundless room as my place my back against my chair. The feeling of being alone becomes more of a thrilling idea of being able to do whatever you want without any boundaries what so ever. It lets you have an insight on the world and watch everything in slow motion to see how mindless people look like robots walking on two pairs of legs.

The bell for my long extended English class rings and my eyes instantly shoot up. I slowly reel my back of the chair and watch the rowdy crowd of teenagers stomping into the room with people tripping over their own legs. My class is filled with all the popular people at my school along with at least a quarter of the football team so you can pretty much guess what the room smells like. Toxic perfume floating around the girls and rotten egg odour seeping off the boys tops with visible sweat marks underneath. It still makes my nose cringe but after four years of going through this, it smells like home to me.

I feel my glasses beginning to slip down my nose and I quickly push the bridge back up. From the front corner of the room, I can hear the agonizing screams from a group of girls huddle in the corner staring eagerly towards the doorway awaiting his arrival. And when I mean he, I mean he the guy with his perfect scruffy chocolaty brown hair, emerald green eyes, pink supple lips that spread on his white puffy cheeks every time he smiles and laughs with that rich but deep monotone accent from Cheshire and his chiselled chest. He is like a gift from god or made from the hands of god. He is the school's second most popular guy under Brooklyn James and Zayn Malik since he just recently transferred here to Doncaster. I also only know him aside from his incredible looks that he is already captain of the football team and is a womanizer. And, he is the reason they and all the other annoying high pitch girls in the school are screaming about these days.

Mr Harry Styles.

I roll my eyes in annoyance at them and tap the edge of my pen against the desk. Sighing, I can't help but sneak a little peak at the entrance and see what all their fangirling is about. I see him leaning against the wooden door with his black and white black antelopes football jersey with the schools uniform underneath, his toned buff arms crossed over his chest with the top of his hair tied up in a mini ponytail. He is chatting away with two of the other popular boys who are also in the football team Brooklyn and Zayn. His emerald green eyes are glistening in the sun's blaze as he spotless white teeth shine from his wide laughter.

But my image later gets blurry as I notice a girl with short brown hair come into the frame.

She scarcely stumbles towards harry with the shortest chequered skirt a girl can possibly have with her eyes almost turning into the shape of hearts, holding a pink mini gift box wrapped with a frilly blue ribbon. She tucks a loose hair strand behind her ear and scarcely stammers out his name.

"H-harry?" She softly calls to him.

Brooklyn Zayn and Harry stop their chattering and direct their attention towards her, unwrapping the present in her hands with their eyes. Harry gives her a smug look and coolly pushes his back off the wall and faces her.

"Is there something you want dear?" his raspy monotone voice seductively asks as he brushes his hair to the side.

The girl scarcely looks to the back of the room and see the many curious eyes laying on them. The different conversations in the room begin to simmer down as tension between the two builds up.

I for one personally don't see what all the girls are obsessing about. He is not educationally smart at all with the IQ of 65 and me having to step in every single time the teacher calls on his name. Honestly I find that the most annoying thing about him sometimes. Although he gives off the impression that he cares mostly about his reputation so much that he can't even admit to not knowing how to do something. But I would like to keep a fair distance from people like him.

Her arms shakily stretch out the present towards harry with flustered cheeks. "This is for you for winning the second round of the pre-season." She cutely says.

My eyes slightly pop surprised as I see him take the box from her hands and give her one of his 'dreamy' smiles in appreciation. She hunches her shoulders in embarrassment and from what I can see from her lips movement saying 'thank you' before she walks back to rejoin the group of girls.

Maybe I should haven't have jumped the gun. But then again I don't really care.

I watch on as the classroom turns into a ruckus once the raspy voice of Mr Douglas comes from the hallway, making me instantly straighten myself up. Everyone is rushing to sit down with the screeches of the wooden chairs grazing over the timber flooring. I, on the other hand, being the only one who has a brain here, preoccupy myself and open up my English binder book to where we left off flicking through the pages to find Shakespeare's, taming the shrew. Once I find the pages I place my biro pen in the crease between the papers and slowly look up.

My body can't help but become paralysed once I locked eyes on his emerald green ones. His perfectly flatten clothes, his small nikey bag sat on the right side of his shoulder with the corner of his lips arch into a small smile and the smell of lynx body spray starting to itch my nose. I wasn't falling in love with him or anything. I just can't help but fond over him. His lower pink lip poking out a little more than the top one as he pulls back on it with his teeth, his dimples poking out of his cheeks when he grins sheepishly towards people and the way he ruffles his hair and swoops it to the side. He is just like a model in the making.

He's face lights up in excitement once he and I lock eyes and moves over to the other side to join me. He sits himself down on the chair as I push my chair closer to the window to keep a fair amount of distance between us, sliding my books over the desk in the process.

I can't help but feel uneasy with him next to me. All the intense stares of jealous faces from the girls all around the room staring in disbelief with some even whispering, I wish I didn't let him sit next to me. I should have just said someone is going to sit here in thirty minutes.

Feeling unsafe, I curl myself into my body and glance over to see what he is doing. He starts digging through his small bag pulling out some of his belongings in the process me of his dirty football gear in the process and he pulls out a blue binder book overflowing with loose papers.

He sighs in content once he finishes collecting his things and rests his back against the chair.

I don't know why but I feel a sudden chill in my spine once he turns towards me with his bulging piercing green eyes looking at me. He just has this uncanny way of just getting people to feel immobilized with him.

He stretches out his hand to me with a broad smile and blankly introduces himself.

"Harry."

I blink and study his fast moving gesture towards me with a concerning look before my eyes catch on to the few girls death staring at me from behind. The girl who gave him the present was sitting in the middle of the row in front of us, gawking at his hand stretching out towards me. I want to keep myself intact so I flat out ignore his gesture and avert myself back towards the front.

I can feel his hand slowly slip down and I take my pen up into my hands and bite down nervously on my bottom lip sneakily taking glances at them hoping they're satisfied. I feel bad for leaving him hanging like that, but I didn't come to school to be harassed and beaten like they do to other girls who touch Harry. I came to just study and stay isolated.

"Sorry..." I slowly breathe out and avert my eyes back to Mr Douglas's direction.

It's the middle of Mr Douglas's long morning extended Shakespeare class for the over-achievers and so far, I am bored to death. His excruciatingly high pitch voice that has been repeating the same stanza of taming the shrew and the clock placed over the board slowly ticking the seconds away is making the life source inside slowly drain out of me. It makes me want to rip the hairs on my head. I can't take his classes at all. I already have science with him and my normal math class but having to have English class with him that revolves mostly around reading and writing is way too eighteen-year-old boy can uphold in this hollow head of mine.

I haven't been paying attention to the class anyway ever since Harry chose to sit next to me. I have been getting glares and whispers thrown back at me with even Brooklyn and Zayn who were sat at the front turning back at me with eyebrows raised. There is an empty spot opposite Zayn that he could have sat in so why did he have to choose me? I'm not a person someone would choose to sit next to, I am boring as hell. I've always been known as the smart school reject that is always silent, ugly and keeps to himself at the back of the class. He must not have wanted to sit next to the rowdy group of girls opposite them. But even so, he loves the attention so why should he care?

I let out a quiet sigh and senselessly sway the tip of my pen over my book. There was still another ten minutes before recess and it already feels like it's the afternoon. I feel tired, drained and slightly peeved at the previous circumstances of today. Harry styles the school's most popular boy was perched right next to me and I have to hand in those uninteresting classes my father has picked out for me to do. This morning could not get any better.

I raise my hand to cover my gaping mouth as I let out a yawn before blinking my eyes to focus on Mr Douglas ahead, seeing him begin writing down the marking criteria for this terms assignments.

"In pairs of two, you need to create a three hundred poetic piece on the topic of you and your partners choosing." He explains as he drags the white chalk over the chalkboard making a shiver prick my spine, I hate that sound.

"However, the topic cannot be explicit or have any sexual references, Mr Styles." Mr Douglas cunningly booms and turns around with an eyebrow raised at Harry's direction. The classes attention directs to the back where Harry and I are, gawking Harry down to wait for his reply.

I sit in my chair uncomfortably feeling my body sinking in with all the piercing stares from all the girls around, I slowly turn my head over to the curly haired boy to see what was taking him so long.

My eyes widen at him, practically taking in no awareness he is in a classroom situation as I he looks mindlessly taps the end of his pen against his paper.

"...summertime...butterflies... your creation..." He unsurely murmurs words loudly and lightly taps the tip of his pen against a blank sheet of paper. What is he thinking? The class is almost about to end and he is already sailed off into his own world without the realization he is in trouble with the teacher.

I tilt my head slightly in front of him and quietly whisper "H-harry?"

He instantly shoots up causing me to jump back a little, watching his lost state as he stares around the room confused.

"What, what did I miss something?"

The classroom erupts into laughter as I watch Harry rub the back of his head in embarrassment. He is so stupid, how did he even get into this school?

Brooklyn and Zayn at the front with the girls laugh the loudest with Brooklyn calling out to him.

"Oi Harry stop daydreaming about Kayla!" He teases.

"I-I am not I just blanked out a little bit!"

"Yea yeah what a load of bull Styles!" Zayn calls out to join in on the fun, making the groupies behind them giggle annoyingly.

The teacher deliberately slams the book on the table with a loud thud and the class instantly drops dead silent. His eyes narrow at Harry's direction making me feel a little scared for him as I look over to him in the corner of my eye.

"Mr styles if you don't want a thirty minute after school detention writing outlines with me I suggest you pay attention and for once get a decent grade in this class"

Harry shrinks down into his chair, lightly tapping the pen against his paper.

"...Sorry Sir" he groans apologetically.

Mr Douglas clears his throat and turns around to continue writing on the green chalkboard. I tilt my head down to my paper and wonder how I would do this assignment by myself. I could just do it on my own but then It is Mr Douglas and he prefers everyone to have a fair chance with everything. But don't talk to anyone in this class neither have I ever worked with anyone. I am sinking deeper and deeper into this predicament.

"Hey, Louis Tomlinson?"

My head instantly gains whiplash as I quickly turned my head to him, surprised he even knows my full name.

His lips churn into a smirk with his white shining teeth glistening through my glasses.

"Thanks for helping me" He coolly says.

I gulp down the clogging saliva in my throat and senselessly nod at him. I don't know what to say to him so slowly rotate my head back to my front to the chalkboard, subtlety tugging on my lower lip. I don't even know why he is even talking to me. Better yet I don't even know why he is sitting next to me.

Time goes on and Mr Douglas is still running through the long list of criteria for the assignment as the partnership is the only thing that runs through my head. I cannot work with any of the people in this class, everyone is separated with their own friendship cliques and I only have myself. I can do this on my own without needing the help of someone else. However knowing Mr Douglas, he is probably going to rant about how it's unfair to do everything on your own when people can split the work. I might just fake a partner for this then.

The resounding noise of the bell rings and the ear-splitting noises of chairs screeching against the floor fill the classroom with everyone rushing to get out of the classroom. I let out a sigh as I watch the lively crowd of people walking out the room with the uproarious screams of Brooklyn, Zayn and most of the football team throwing a football around them, making their way towards Harry.

Not wanting to start conflict I quickly flip my folder closed, zip up my pencil case and stuff it into my bag, smelling the strong scent of sweat seeping of the group of boys in front of me. They are so intimidating and annoying. Known for the biggest and most popular group in the school for a number of wins, hottest guys in the school and holding the biggest parties the entire school attends. I never attend any for personal reason and I doubt they would want me around.

I push the bridge of my glasses up my nose before standing up to head towards the door. I keep my head down from not looking at the group of boys loudly chatting and eyeing me down at the front and pace towards the front of the room. I clumsily slam the subject selection paper on the teacher's desk.

"Here is my subject selections sir" I quickly mumble out.

Mr Douglas raises an eyebrow at me before reaching his hand out to slowly take the paper.

"..Thankyou Lewis, much appreciated," He says with concern in his voice.

I give a small nod and turn my body around to the side to head out of the room before a raspy voice from behind calls out for me along with the sounds of leather shoes running.

"Louis, wait!" Harry shouts from behind as he clumsily walks through the gap between the tables. I don't know why he wants to speak to me I know that didn't leave anything behind, did I?

I slowly turn around to look at him and see his green glistening eyes locking onto mine with his chest subtlety moving up and down.

He exaggerates his panting as he bends his back over with his hands on his legs looking like he ran a marathon. He lifts his head up to me with the smuggest look in his face.

"Man you're fast at packing up just wanted to say thanks again for helping me out back there," He says as he rolls himself back up.

I don't know what to say. All I can think about is how close he is to me with the heat radiation off him, hitting against my cold shrivelled up body. I didn't even help him I just nudge him to pay attention so he must be more annoyed than grateful. Why did he even have to sit next to me and cause all this.

He lowers his head to the side with concern written all over his face.

"Uh, Louis?"

I open my mouth to speak, but only mumbles come out "U-uh um...uh...I-its fine..."

"Oi Harry you're not trying to make friends with that social outcast right?"

Feeling a tight constriction in my stomach I look to the side to see Zayn with his slicked back black hair with a single blonde line and his big brown eyes coolly walking up towards us with a questionable look on his face. I bite down on my lower lip in annoyance from being held back and look up again to harry seeing him look away to the side. I see Zayn wrap his arm protectively around Harry's shoulders and pull him into the side.

"I think I might call you four-eyes from now on, whatcha you think Harry?" Zayn asks, nudging Harry's shoulder. Harry stays silent and keeps glancing down to the side, tugging his fingers against his pants irritated.

Zayn lightly pushes Harry away and to stand in front of me, peering down at the top of my head. The heat coming from his body is more forceful and surrounding, but the smell is different. It isn't the smell of sweat that is forming underneath his armpits, it's the strong scent of a rich cologne seeping of his chest slightly stinging my nose. For a guy who is known for being nice and a hottie, he is more of a jackass and a well-scented football team player.

Zayn lowers his head down closer to my ear and I press my folder tighter against my chest. The aura becomes darker than before as he lets his hot breath brush against my ear along with his rough lips slightly tickling my skin.

"Scoot, you little pest" He whispers.

Without giving a second thought, I frantically nod and quickly pace towards the door, hearing their sadistic laughter erupt from behind me. I turn at the edge of the door to enter back into the empty hallway. I found nothing, nothing but white walls with no teenagers to paint with expressions. The hallway was completely emptied, not even the sound of banging lockers was heard. The emptiness engulfed me with bizarre confinement yet freedom from them.

He was so close to me, the way he stared concernedly at me, just who does he think he is? This school bans any sort of flirtatious activity from the same sex and he just came over me like that? He really is a stupid idiot. And Zayn, he...he was so close to me. The fresh scent of his rich cologne, I...I can still smell it. It stung so much and his deep voice with his rough chapped lips lightly brushing against my earlobe, and the teacher was right there. Why couldn't this just take place outside where I wouldn't make a full of myself. I press my hand against my chest to feel how hard my heart is frantically beating. Why did Harry look so hurt to see me in that predicament? He just kept silent the entire time anyway so why even bother to show some type of emotion towards me? He shouldn't have sat next to me, he shouldn't be associated with me, and I will just going to bring nothing but misfortune. That's how it is being the social outcast.

I harshly bite down on my lower lip and look up to the analog clock hanging at the top of the wall. It is only a quarter past eleven and there are four more hours until I can go home.


End file.
